


How to Give Socks and Influence Elves (and Pretty Professors)

by Alisanne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 18:30:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13347018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alisanne/pseuds/Alisanne
Summary: When Professor Granger decides the Hogwarts house-elves deserve Christmas presents, it somehow ends up being Severus’ job to make it happen.





	How to Give Socks and Influence Elves (and Pretty Professors)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shiv5468](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiv5468/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** Nothing you recognize is mine. It all belongs to the clever Scottish lady. 
> 
> **Author's Notes:** Written for the 2017 Hoggywartyxmas fest as a gift for my dear friend Shiv5468. She gave many inspiring prompts to work with, but the one that called to me was: _The house-elves want to know why they don't get presents from Santa, someone has to explain. This may involve socks_. 
> 
> Thank you to my beta readers, Sevfan and Emynn, to my Britpicker, Smallhobbit, and to the fabulous moderator, TheRealSnape. <3

~

How to Give Socks and Influence Elves (and Pretty Professors)

~

Of all his jobs as Hogwarts’ Headmaster, there was one Severus absolutely hated, but to which he had been forced to become accustomed: solving other people’s problems. 

Left alone, most people could manage their own affairs just fine without his or anyone else’s interference, this much he’d ascertained during his years of spy craft. Upon being appointed Headmaster, however, it’d become clear the little problems people could and should have been able to settle for themselves, they brought to him, simply because of that troublesome ‘head’ in his title. 

Fortunately, Hogwarts herself could generally be relied upon to function without his intervention, and the day to day management of the school hummed along without much interference from him. 

It was the castle’s inhabitants who could be annoying, however. Some people tended to be more needy than others, some far less so, and although he never told them, he appreciated the less needy of his staff members. Chief on that list were the elves, who rarely needed much personal direction from him. 

Thus, the late November morning he entered his office to find all Hogwarts’ house-elves lined up and waiting for him, he was, to put it mildly, taken aback. 

“What is the meaning of this?” he asked, settling into his chair. “I didn’t call a meeting.” He frowned. “Did I?”

They had obviously chosen a spokes-elf. An older creature named Freida stepped forward, wringing her hands. “No, Headmaster, sir,” she squeaked. “We is here to speak with you. We is confused.” 

“As am I,” replied Severus, eyeing them all. 

Frieda looked back at her fellow elves. A couple in the front line of the gathered elves made shooing motions with their hands. 

Severus sighed. “If you’ll tell me why you’re here, we can get to the bottom of your, and my, confusion quickly, and then we can all return to our duties promptly.”

Frieda, looking at the floor, said, “Headmaster, why is we not getting Christmas gifts?” 

Of all the things he’d expected her to say, that had not been one. Severus’ mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?” 

Frieda cowered, but repeated the question. “Why is we not getting Christmas gifts, Headmaster, sir?” 

“I…” Severus snapped his mouth shut, sitting back in his chair. “How did such a question even come up—?” He paused. “Who mentioned Christmas gifts to you?” he asked. “And do elves even celebrate Christmas?” 

“We has not before, Headmaster, sir,” one piped up from the back. “We is not sure how.” 

“Merlin,” Severus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off an impending headache. “You’re aware of the story of Christmas, presumably, since you’re the ones who decorate the castle for the holidays?” 

“Yes, Headmaster,” they all said as Frieda stepped back into line. 

“So you’re aware that, to celebrate the birth of Christ, people often give each other gifts at this time of year.” Severus frowned. “Is there any holiday elves celebrate?”

They all began mumbling amongst themselves. 

“No, Headmaster, sir,” said Frieda finally after some discussion with her fellow elves.

“Which means someone mentioned this to you.” Severus raised an eyebrow. “Who was it?” 

“Professor Granger—”

Severus almost groaned. “Granger,” he spat. “Of course it’s our newest staff member. Who else could it be?” He shook his head. “What exactly did she say?” 

“Professor Granger is asking what we wants for Christmas, Headmaster, sir, and we is not knowing what to say!” Frieda lifted her eyes to Severus’. “We starts to talk, and some of us is wondering why we does not get presents.” 

“Are you saying?” Severus asked, “that you wish for clothes?”

Frieda recoiled as if he’d slapped her. “Oh no, Headmaster, sir! We is proper elves! But presents is different.” 

Severus frowned. “How so? If I gifted you a scarf, how would that be different than if I gave you a shirt or trousers?”

Friends was wringing her hands. “Headmaster, sir, if you gives me clothes, then you is dismissing me. But if you gives Frieda a present that is not clothes, it is a reward.” 

Exhaling, Severus pondered her statement. “So you’re saying I could give you a gift of anything except clothes it would be fine?”

“Yes, Headmaster, sir.” 

“Interesting.” Severus looked at all of them. “And unfortunate. You could all probably use some socks.” 

“Socksies!” some of the elves whispered excitedly. 

Frieda shook her head vigorously. “No, Headmaster, sir. You cannot gives us socksies. Other presents you can gives us.” 

“I see.” Severus sighed. “So, are you saying you do want presents?” 

Frieda looked back at the other elves, who all nodded. “Yes, Headmaster.”

“What kind of presents?” 

“Socksies!” cried several elves. 

“Scarves!” cried some others.

“But you just said we can’t give you those,” said Severus, struggling to hold on to his composure. “So what do you want that we _can_ give you?” 

“Socksies!” cried approximately half. 

“Scarves!” cried the other half. 

“That is impossible,” sighed Severus. “Socks and scarves are clothes. Name something else.” 

Frieda shrugged. “We is not needing much else, Headmaster, sir.” 

Severus’ headache was getting worse. “So, to be clear, you want Christmas presents, and we can’t give you clothes without freeing you, but all you want is…clothes?” 

“Yes, Headmaster, sir!” Frieda nodded excitedly. “We knowed you would understand.” 

“Indeed. And how are we supposed to manage that?” Severus snapped. 

Frieda’s eyes went big and her ears flapped back and forth. “Headmaster is smart!” 

“Headmaster is also exhausted and it’s only morning,” Severus muttered. 

“We trust you, Headmaster, sir.” 

Of course they did. Severus sighed. “I…I must discuss this with the board of governors and the staff since it’s never been done before. Come back and see me in a month and I shall see what I can come up with.” 

The elves all mumbled amongst themselves. After a moment, Frieda bowed. “One month, Headmaster, sir,” she said, and a moment later they were all gone. 

Reaching into a drawer, Severus withdrew the bottle of Scotch which Minerva had bestowed upon him for his birthday that year and poured a small measure into the tumbler he kept close by. He tossed it back, shuddering as it went down his throat. Then, putting it away, he squared his shoulders. It was time to locate Professor Granger.

* * *

Granger was, of course, in the library. In the Restricted Section to be precise, although, since Severus knew for a fact her personal book collection was more complete, he wasn’t sure why she bothered going there. 

She was poring over some ancient tome, stroking its spine absently, strands of her hair escaping to float around her head giving it a halo effect. Her robes, usually properly buttoned up, had been unbuttoned at the throat, showcasing a small silver pendant nestled in the hollow of her slender neck. 

He averted his eyes as he approached so that when she looked up, his gaze was steady on her face. Her eyes narrowed in what looked like surprise. “Headmaster! Good afternoon.” She sat back in her chair, opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it. 

“Professor Granger.” Taking the seat across from her, Severus regarded her carefully. She had matured since her student days, having developed an acute awareness of when to hold her tongue and when to speak. “Do you have a moment? There’s something I need to discuss with you.” 

“Of course, Headmaster.” Reaching into her bag, she placed a bookmark on the page she had been reading and closed the book, slipping it into the bag. “It’s my own book,” she explained when she saw the curious look he gave her. “I come here to read because it’s quieter than my quarters.” 

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Indeed? Are your quarters especially loud? Do I need to arrange for alternate accommodations?” 

“Oh no.” She smiled. “It’s just…My fr—people have a tendency to Floo call at all times of the day or night to ask questions, and I’ve discovered if I’m not in, they generally manage to find their own answers.” 

“Interesting,” said Severus. “I, too, have noticed people need to be more self-sufficient when left to their own—” He paused, exhaling. He wasn’t there to make small talk or socialize. “Anyway, the Hogwarts elves came to me today babbling about Christmas gifts.” 

Granger leaned forward. “Did they? Oh, good.” Her smile widened. “I’d hoped they would. They seemed so surprised when I asked what they wanted, although surely I can’t be the first one who’s considered giving them Christmas gifts? Although I imagine it would have been difficult to do during the war, but since that’s over— Anyway, is there some sort of limit to how much to spend or do people usually give hand-made items? Do the professors get together and give a group gift? I thought perhaps if I knitted them some socks or scarves or even gloves—”

Perhaps he had been too hasty in his previous assessment. “Professor Granger!” he snapped, interrupting her. “I’m afraid it’s not…traditional to give the elves any gifts over the holidays.” 

“Oh.” She inclined her head. “When _is_ it traditional, then?” Her eyes widened, and Severus could see amber and golden flecks in their depths. “Dear me,” she said, looking chagrined. “It never occurred to me to ask, but do they have their own traditions they follow, their own holiday celebrations?” 

“It is my understanding they do not,” Severus replied. “And it has _never_ been traditional to give elves presents.” 

“Ah.” Granger nodded. “I see. So we would be starting a new tradition, I take it?” She reached for parchment and quill as if to begin jotting notes. “Perhaps if we—”

“Granger,” Severus interrupted. “It’s never occurred to _anyone_ to give the house-elves Christmas gifts since Hogwarts’ founding. Ever. There is no precedent for it. And, as it has the potential to affect the disrupting the running of the school, it’s something I shall need to take before the board of governors.” 

“Really?” She frowned. “But why?” 

“As I said, it’s not traditional—”

Granger shook her head. “Neither was offering an eighth year of studies to the students affected by the war, but you did _that_.” 

“Indeed.” Severus scowled. She really was too clever by half. “And it took the unanimous agreement of the entire board of governors to accomplish that feat. If you cannot see that situation is quite different than what you’re proposing, then you are not the intellectual I believe you to be.” 

Granger blinked at him. “You think I’m an intellectual?” 

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Hogwarts is not in the habit of employing idiots, Professor Granger, no matter how attract—popular they may be.” 

Granger’s mouth fell open. “Popular?” 

“I’m sure you’re aware each staff member is asked their opinion of everyone who applies to work here,” Severus said. “Everyone on staff approved of you, a rarity, let me assure you.” 

“Oh.” Searching his eyes for a moment, Granger smiled. “I had no idea.” 

“It’s a relatively new development. My suggestion.” Severus smirked. “Had that been our practice over the years, we could have avoided many disasters.” 

Granger looked as if she was biting back a smile, her eyes twinkling. “Lockhart?” 

“Amongst others,” agreed Severus. He sighed. “But back to the topic at hand. Giving the house elves gifts needs to be thought out thoroughly and objectively. And, since it’s not traditional, there may be those who disagree.” 

Granger dropped her gaze, appearing to centre herself. “Headmaster, saying it’s not traditional to give elves gifts and leaving it at that isn’t a good enough answer. As you just demonstrated in your example about surveying the old staff about new members, a lot of things aren’t traditional but are still good ideas.” 

“Well put, Professor Granger, but I’m not the one you’re going to have to convince,” Severus said quietly. “It’s not my decision.” 

“I see.” Granger sighed. “All right, what do you think the board will say?” 

“I have no idea.” Severus cleared his throat. “Although, as almost all of them are members of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, I suspect they will come down on the side of tradition.” 

Granger sat back in her chair. “You think they’ll say no,” she whispered. “Damn.” 

“It is entirely possible.” Severus smiled faintly as he contemplated for a mad moment letting _her_ go and petition the board. She was such a virago, they’d never know what hit them. 

Her eyes narrowed. “You _want_ them to say no, don’t you?” 

Severus blinked, focussing on her. “Professor Granger, I have no opinion either way—”

“But what could it hurt?” she cried passionately. “The elves do so much for us, the least we could do is give them each a Christmas gift, some token of appreciation for all their hard work!” 

Severus inclined his head. “Your sentiments are admirable, but again, I must discuss it with the governors, not to mention the rest of the staff. Having one person wanting to do something should not obligate everyone else.” 

Granger raised her chin in defiance, a habit she obviously hadn’t outgrown. “I’d be willing to make them gifts myself. I may not be the best knitter in the world, but I can knit a scarf or two.” 

“You wish to give the elves clothes?” Severus cleared his throat. “That would simply insult them, as I’m sure you recall from your…S.P.E.W. debacle.” 

“I…yes.” Granger bit her lip. “May I ask who sits on the board of governors, Headmaster?” she asked, sounding more subdued.

Severus raised an eyebrow. “I can provide a list, but it would be highly irregular for a member of staff to approach them directly.” 

Granger huffed, her lips thinning. “When are you going to ask them, then?” 

Severus coughed. “I have not yet requested an appointment—”

“When you do, may I attend the meeting with you?” Granger’s expression reminded him of the way she’d looked just before testifying at his war trial: resolute, determined, eyes flashing. “After all, since I’m the one who proposed the idea, I should be the one to defend it, don’t you think?” 

Apparently he was going to get his wish. “As you like. Once I’ve made the appointment, I’ll let you know.” Severus rose. “I shall leave you to your reading, Professor.” And as he walked away, Severus could feel her eyes on him. It was unnerving.

* * *

Severus got mixed results when he canvassed the other professors, everything from a shrug (Hooch) to a dissertation on the history of elves’ rights throughout the ages (Binns), to shock (Horace), and enthusiastic agreement (Longbottom). 

It was Minerva, of course, who saw to the heart of the matter. “Why are you really taking this to the board?” she asked when he told her his plan over tea. 

“For a change in policy such as this one—”

“Nonsense,” she interrupted, putting her cup down. “As Headmaster, you could make this decision yourself and inform the board later.” Her eyes narrowed. “What’s really going on, Severus? Are you honestly opposed to this idea? Or is there something else at play here?” 

“As I said,” Severus huffed, looking away from her far too perceptive eyes. “I’m not opposed. I just think that when something with so many potentially serious ramifications is proposed, all the possibilities need to be evaluated.” 

Minerva smiled. “Is it because you enjoy baiting Professor Granger? She is lovely when she’s outraged, isn’t she? All fiery, her eyes flashing, bosom heaving…I don’t blame you.” 

Severus gaped at her. “I do not enjoy baiting her. And as for any of her,” he coughed, “body parts heaving, I have no idea. I hardly notice such things.” 

“Oh, I think you do.” Minerva chuckled. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Trust me, if you’ve never looked at her bosom, you should. She’s an attractive young woman.”

“Who is also young enough to be my daughter and who used to be my student,” Severus growled. “If I were attracted to her, it would be…perverted.” 

Minerva snorted. “Oliver Wood was my student, but you can be damned sure I look at _him_ now that he’s a Quidditch star. There’s nothing perverted about looking at an attractive person, Severus. Or even daydreaming about them. I’m not telling you to ask her out, although, to be honest, there would be nothing wrong with that either.” 

“I am her supervisor, and as such am in a position of power over her. Any…interest would have to be expressed by her.” 

“So you _have_ thought about it!” Minerva crowed. “I was beginning to wonder.” She pursed her lips. “And I’m sure Hermione could be persuaded to express her interest if only she knew about yours.” 

“I am not interested—”

“Now, now, Severus.” Minerva gave him a severe look. “Lie to me all you like, but don’t lie to yourself.” 

Severus scowled, looking away. Damn her. “Are you done?” he asked, tone dry. “Because I still have a few more staff members to canvas about giving the elves Christmas gifts.” 

“Yes, I’m done,” said Minerva. “For now. Oh, and as for that question, you can put me down as a yes. I see no problem with giving the elves presents. And speaking of, is there anything for which you may be…longing this Christmas?” She smirked. 

Refusing to rise to her jibe, Severus sneered. “I require no gifts, I have everything I could possibly need.” 

“Well, not _everything_ , surely.” Minerva pursed her lips. “You may not need another book or more Scotch, but when was the last time you went on a date?” Severus’ glare normally enough to stop anyone else in their tracks, simply made her smile deepen. “I can talk to Hermione,” she continued, “see if she knows anyone suitable. I’m sure she would love to help. And while I’m at it, I’ll see if she’s involved with anyone herself, and if she likes older men—”

“I am still a Potions master, madam,” he sneered. “You would do well to remember that. Unless you’re prepared to watch your back at all times.” 

“Oh, I do that anyway,” said Minerva, helping herself to a digestive. “I work in a school with children who are learning magic, after all.” She raised an eyebrow. “So, is that a yes? Shall I have a private chat with her?” 

Severus didn’t answer verbally, he just stood up, glared at her, and walked out. The effect was ruined by her laughter following him, however.

He caught Minerva shooting amused looks at him later during dinner, and he ignored her. Harder to ignore was Granger chatting softly with Professors Vector and Longbottom while glancing over him periodically, speculation in her eyes. 

Relatively sure Minerva had simply been teasing earlier, Severus was nevertheless watching for any indication she had said anything incriminating to Granger. But whenever Granger was looking at him, her eyes betrayed no amusement or mockery, and Severus, reassured, gradually relaxed and ate his meal. 

Unsurprisingly, however, as soon as he rose to leave, Granger excused herself as well, following him out of the Great Hall. “Headmaster! A moment?” 

Steeling himself, Severus turned to face her. “Yes, Professor Granger?” 

Granger skidded to a stop in front of him. A tendril of her hair which had escaped her bun lay across her cheek. Severus clenched his hands into fists, fighting the urge to tuck the hair behind her ear. What was wrong with him?

“I’ve been thinking about your concerns about the elves,” she said, expression earnest, “and it occurred to me you could be right.” 

“Indeed.” Severus inclined his head. “About what exactly?”

“About my plan possibly causing unforeseen consequences.” Granger pursed her lips. “I know I got into trouble with both wizards and elves when I formed S.P.EW. because I didn’t take their feelings into account, so—”

“So?”

“So now I shall.” Granger exhaled. She smiled ruefully. “And I promise not to start leaving badly knitted scarves for them as traps.” 

“What a relief,” Severus deadpanned. “That thought has been keeping me up at night.” 

Granger laughed. “Okay, I deserved that,” she admitted, stepping closer. For a moment he could smell her scent, a heady mixture of lavender and vanilla. “Anyway, I was hoping we could meet and come up with a strategy for when we go to talk with the governors. Would you be amenable to having tea with me in my quarters so we can talk about it?” 

The, “Yes,” popped out of Severus’ mouth so fast it even took him by surprise. 

Granger blinked, a look of astonishment crossing her face. “Really? You would?” 

Severus raised an eyebrow, hoping she couldn’t hear his thudding heart. “Was I unclear, Professor?” 

“No! Not at all, I just thought…” Granger laughed softly, looking away. “I suppose I thought it would take more work on my part to persuade you.” 

“Indeed. Well I have no desire to embarrass myself before the governors, so preparing seems a reasonable precaution to take.” Severus bowed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” 

“Of course.” Granger smiled. “I’ll…see you tomorrow, Headmaster.” 

By the time Severus got back to his office, he was humming, and when he saw his reflection in a mirror, he was smiling. “You’re a fool,” he muttered at his reflection, scowling. When his reflection gave him an audacious wink, he huffed, turning away.

* * *

Severus surveyed his robe choices. He flicked his wand, shuffling his options past him. He owned black, black, black, more black, and one dark green robe that could almost be black, and exhaling heavily, he threw up his hands, picked one at random, and got dressed. 

Of course he would run into Minerva on his way up to Granger’s quarters. “My, don’t you look spiffy?” she said, eyeing him up and down. 

He glared at her. “Don’t start!”

“Start what?” She smiled. “I hear you’re having tea with Hermione. How romantic. That was fast work.” 

“It’s not _romantic_ , it’s just tea,” said Severus. “It’s a working tea, in fact, simply a meeting to strategise about our approach before meeting officially with the governors.” 

“Ah.” Minerva smirked knowingly. “Is that what we’re calling it these days?” 

“Yes, because that’s what it is.” Severus scowled. “Wait, how did you know about it? Did she tell you?” 

“Actually, no. I overheard her talking to Longbottom about him taking her patrol tonight. She said she was having tea with you and she didn’t want to be interrupted if it was going well.”

Severus blinked. “She did?” 

“Mmhm.” Minerva pursed her lips. “Sounds like she’s looking forward to your _meeting_ as well.” She inclined her head. “It has the potential to be a lovely first date.” 

“It is not,” Severus gritted out through his teeth, “a date.” 

“If you say so.” Minerva patted his arm, and Severus was so distracted he let her. “Either way, do enjoy your tea.” 

“I—” Severus paused. He _what_? Was worried he wouldn’t? Or was afraid he _would_? “Thank you,” he finally muttered. 

“And, Severus?” 

Severus paused. “Yes?” 

“There’s no shame in allowing yourself some happiness if the opportunity presents itself.” Minerva moved past him. “Have a good evening.”

* * *

Granger’s quarters were, of course, in Gryffindor tower, and as Severus moved towards them he got more and more nervous. “Ridiculous,” he hissed to himself as he approached her door. It was a work meeting, nothing more. So why was he having such trouble stifling the blooming hope in his chest that there could be something more? 

He knocked. 

The door opened so quickly she had to have been waiting. “Headmaster. Right on time. Do come in.” 

Granger, dressed in light green robes, the familiar pendant nestled in her throat, was a vision. She stepped aside, and Severus entered her rooms. 

She had made them her own, of course, by hanging warm tapestries on the walls and installing copious bookshelves. From the few spines he could read, he could tell she had eclectic tastes in books. Everything from classic magical treatises to modern Muggle chemistry and biology tomes graced her shelves. 

“You can inspect the books later if you like,” she said, tone warm. “But I thought tea by the fire would be a good way to start our…evening.” 

Severus turned away from the books, moving towards the cosy table set for two. There were digestives, small sandwiches and…Severus blinked. “Is that walnut bread?” 

Granger smiled. “I asked the elves what you favourite was, and they said you liked it. Is that all right?”

Severus inclined his head. “You needn’t have gone to all the effort.” 

“It wasn’t a problem.” Granger’s smile widened. “And it allows me a chance to try it. I never have.” She cleared her throat. “I tend towards the chocolate side of things when left to my own devices.” 

“I have no problem with chocolate,” said Severus, holding out a chair for her. 

“Thank you,” she said, sitting. “That’s two things we agree on, then.”

“Oh?” said Severus. “And the other is?”

“Elves deserve Christmas presents.” She inclined her head. “Shall I pour?” 

“Please.” 

Severus, who took his black, sipped and watched as Granger prepared hers with a splash of milk and one lump. 

They munched on sandwiches, Granger eyeing him as she ate. Once they’d finished the first cup and had each had a slice of walnut bread, she got down to business. “I took the liberty of compiling a list of points we should probably mention to the board,” she said, pulling a parchment out of her robes. 

She handed the parchment over, and Severus took it, scanning her neat handwriting. “These all seem reasonable,” he said. “And you’ve clearly outlined all the reasons we should give the elves gifts. There is one thing you have not addressed, however.” 

“What’s that?” 

“The elves want clothes, but we cannot give them any as it frees them. If we don’t have a plan on how to accomplish our goal, the board will probably deny the request.” 

Granger sighed, toying with her teacup. “I know, I just haven’t worked that bit out yet.” 

Severus nodded. “We have a week to figure it out. Hopefully that should be enough time to find some loophole to exploit.” 

Granger smiled. “That’s such a Slytherin answer.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “And what would be the Gryffindor approach?” 

Laughing, Granger said, “Oh, we’d barge in and give the gifts first and deal with the consequences later.” 

“If that were true, you’d have already done it.” Severus smirked. “And I would be dealing with some upset elves and staff. But instead, you’ve researched it. Are you sure you’re not Ravenclaw?” 

She tilted her chin up, eyes sparkling. “I’d say I’m Gryffindor with Ravenclaw tendencies. Just as I’d say you’re Slytherin with…Hufflepuff tendencies.” 

“You wound me, Professor,” murmured Severus. “There can be no greater insult to one of my House.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with loyalty and dedication to hard work,” replied Granger. “And, if I may say, you have both in spades, along with cunning and ambition.” 

“Indeed,” said Severus, flattered despite himself. “Good save. It strikes me you could have made a fair Slytherin, given the right opportunity.”

“Should _I_ be insulted now?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. 

“Are you?”

She pursed her lips. “No,” she said slowly. “I don’t believe I am.” Her smile was wry. “I’ve decided to take it as a compliment, especially coming from you.” 

Severus smirked. “I take it back. You’re all Gryffindor.” 

Throwing back her head, Granger laughed. “I suppose I walked right into that.” Sobering, she grinned at him. “Shall we call a truce?”

“I believe that would be for the best,” said Severus. “And I suppose, since everyone displays all hour House traits at times, depending on the circumstances, it’s all a construct, developed to classify traits that are not so easily classified.” 

Still grinning, Granger extended her hand to him. “On that we agree, Headmaster.” 

Taking her hand, Severus almost groaned when a flash of sensual awareness went up his arm. His fingers automatically tightened on hers. “Call me Severus,” he said, surprising himself and her, judging by the way her eyes widened. 

“Only if you’ll call me Hermione,” she said softly, staring at him. 

Sure his expression mirrored hers, Severus tore his eyes away and released her hand. “Agreed.” 

Hermione’s hand hovered in the air a moment as if about to grab for him, then she recalled it. “Lovely,” she said, voice tight. “Anyway, those are my ideas—”

“Would you go for a walk with me?” Severus blurted out. 

Hermione’s eyes rose to meet his and she smiled. “Yes. That’s a good idea. Perhaps we can think of how to give the elves gifts if we improve our circulation.” 

Severus could only think of one place on his body that had improved circulation just then, but he wasn’t about to mention it. He rose, silently giving thanks for his old-fashioned robes. “An excellent idea.” He helped her up, then offered her his arm. “I often do a mini-patrol of my own before retiring to bed.” 

“I…yes. I’ve often seen you whilst doing my own patrols.” Hermione tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow, and it felt natural, right. 

They exited Hermione’s quarters, heading towards the Astronomy Tower. As they walked, Hermione proposed various ideas. “What if we just left a pile of wrapped gifts under the tree in the Great Hall?” 

“It would still count as giving them clothes.” 

“What if we gave them sweets or something else?” 

Severus snorted. “They expressed a distinct and definite preference for socks.” 

“Oh, I’m sure.” Hermione sighed. “I bet their poor feet get quite cold during the winter months. I know mine do.” 

Sneaking a look at her feet, clad in stylish boots, Severus wondered how she’d feel about him kissing them. 

“What if we gave them wool and knitting needles to make their own socks?” Hermione said as they got to the top of the Astronomy Tower.

“Making them have to produce their own gift is hardly in the Christmas spirit,” Severus said.

“Ugh.” Hermione shook her head. “You’re right, it’s not. That’s no good either.” She blinked as he walked them over to the balustrade overlooking the lake. “Oh, what a beautiful night, the view’s breathtaking. I always forget how lovely it is up here, especially when the moon is out.” 

Severus, staring at her profile, exhaled. “Indeed it is,” he whispered. “Quite lovely.” 

Something in his voice must have alerted her, because she turned to look at him, her eyes searching his for a moment. She smiled faintly. “You’re not looking at the lake,” she said, her face movie closer to his. 

“Nor are you,” he pointed out, his gaze dropping to her mouth for a moment before looking back up into her eyes.

“I…I think I’ve found something better to look at,” she whispered, the heat from her mouth gusting against his lips. 

“As have I—”

“Headmaster!” The owl Patronus that appeared alongside them startled Severus, almost sending him toppling over the balustrade. “Come immediately! We need you in the infirmary at once!” 

Damning Poppy’s execrable timing, Severus exhaled. “Professor Granger, I’m afraid I must—”

“Hermione,” she reminded him. “And you have to go. I understand.” She stepped back, her lips trembling for a moment before going firm. “Thank you for having tea with me, Severus.” 

Taking her hand, Severus raised it to his mouth. “It was my pleasure, Hermione. Perhaps another time—?”

“Count on it,” she said, eyes shining. 

Releasing her hand, Severus Disapparated, and the last thing he saw were her eyes.

* * *

“Do we need to have him taken to St Mungo’s, you think?” asked Minerva as she and Severus watched the injured boy resting on the cot. His face was covered with burns and scars, as was his entire upper chest. “A cauldron of Cleaning Acid exploding is no small matter.”

Severus nodded. “I was just pondering the same thing. Those burns look severe. Poppy?” 

Poppy sighed. “I’ve used all the Burn Paste I have in my stores and Horace is making more as fast as he can, but I fear they are too deep.” As she spoke the child began moaning and thrashing about. Waving her wand, Poppy settled him down once more. “And he’s in a lot of pain. My sedation spell isn’t holding long. I think they need to induce a magical coma and heal him.” 

Severus nodded. “Very well, proceed. I’ll notify his parents.” 

After a harrowing conversation with two upset pure-blood parents, Severus went back to the infirmary to oversee the boy’s transport to hospital. It wasn’t until all the excitement had settled that an idea occurred to him. 

Returning to his office, he made one last Floo call. It took a moment, but when Lucius’ face appeared in the fire, Severus smiled. “Lucius.” 

“Severus! It’s been ages since you’ve called. What’s the occasion?” 

“No occasion. Can’t I check on an old friend just for friendship’s sake?” 

“Well of course you can,” said Lucius, eyebrow raised, “but I suspect it’s far more likely you need a favour.” 

“You do owe me one,” Severus reminded him. 

“I’m aware,” Lucius replied, tone dry. “We haven’t seen you in a while, why don’t you stop by for tea tomorrow and we can chat?” 

“That would be perfect,” agreed Severus. “See you tomorrow.” 

“I look forward to it, old friend.” 

Once the connection was closed, Severus straightened up and smiled.

* * *

“It’s good to see you, Severus.” Putting down his cup, Lucius helped himself to a scone. “You look well, quite…rested.” 

Severus smirked. “As do you. How are things going?” 

“Oh, you know.” Lucius waved the hand in which he was holding his butter knife. “Some people will insist on holding grudges, but most seem to have forgotten the recent unpleasantness.” 

Severus refrained from rolling his eyes. Only Lucius could refer to a war, in which he’d been on the side of the Darkest wizard of the age, as _unpleasantness._ “Yes, well. Some people can be unreasonable.” 

“Exactly!” Lucius finished slathering butter and cream onto his scone and took a bite. “So,” he said once he’d chewed and swallowed, “why are you really here, Severus?” 

“I’ve a matter I plan to raise before the board,” Severus said. “And I was hoping I could count on your vote.” 

“A board matter, hm?” Lucius smirked. “Well I do owe you. What are you proposing?” 

Severus sipped his tea, choosing his words carefully. “Certain staff members have expressed interest in giving the Hogwarts house-elves Christmas presents. Specifically socks. And perhaps some scarves.” 

Lucius dropped his half-eaten scone. “You want to free the Hogwarts elves?”

“No, they do not want their freedom, the staff member in question, while…idealistic, has come to accept that they are a part of the school and is not seeking to undermine their role, merely to express their appreciation for all the hard work they do on our behalf—”

“Granger wants to give the house-elves Christmas presents, is that it?” Lucius rolled his eyes. “I swear, that Mud—”

Severus cleared his throat. 

“—Muggle-born witch lives to cause controversy.” Lucius sighed. “Well of course I’ll back you. Although I should have thought you could have simply told her no without having to bring it to the board.” 

“I don’t want to deny her this,” said Severus, eyeing the shortbread. “I was hoping you knew of a way to give elves gifts that wouldn’t result in them being freed under the old laws.” Choosing a biscuit, Severus raised it to his mouth, freezing when he saw Lucius staring at him. “What?” 

“You’re in love with Granger,” said Lucius. 

Severus huffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.” 

“I’m not being ridiculous, but it’s the only explanation for why you’d embark upon such a mad quest. There’s no way the board is going to approve it!” 

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Which is why I’m here asking for your help.” 

“Dear Merlin, you’re serious.” Lucius shook his head. “You have my vote, of course, Severus, as…unconventional as it may be. But you’ll never get the others to agree. If you think I’m traditional…well, they make me look like a rebel.” 

“Who else can you browbeat?” 

Lucius snorted. “You’re speaking to the wrong Malfoy for that, my friend. You’d do better to ask Draco to get his current paramour to intervene.” 

“Oh?” Severus raised an eyebrow. “And who’s that?” 

“I’d rather not say as I’m trying to forget the whole thing.” Lucius poured himself more tea and, looking around, slipped a hand into his robes, pulling out a flask. He held it up, wordlessly asking Severus if wanted some, too. When Severus nodded and held up his cup, Lucius poured a generous serving inside. 

“How am I to ask for this person’s assistance if you won’t tell me who they are?” Severus asked once he’d taken a sip of his fortified tea.

Lucius scowled. “Don’t make me say it, Severus. It’s bad enough to know one’s son is taking another man’s cock up his—” Shuddering, he retrieved the flask and took a drink directly from it. “Ask Draco, I’m sure he’d be _delighted_ to tell you.” 

“Given your reaction, it could only be one person,” Severus murmured, going cold. “Is it P—?”

“Don’t say the name!” Lucius cried, holding up a hand. 

“Why not?” asked Severus. “It’s not as if my saying his name will invoke his presence.” 

“That’s what you—” Just then the door opened and they both turned to see Draco, hand in hand with Potter, walk in. 

Shooting Severus a pointed look, Lucius downed his tea, quickly pouring more.

“Father, Harry and I are staying for dinner… Oh, hello, Severus!” said Draco. 

Lucius shot a glare at Severus before surreptitiously pouring more brandy into his tea. 

Severus coughed, inclining his head. “Draco. Potter.” 

“It’s good to see you, Severus. Are you having dinner with us?” asked Draco. 

From the look of utter horror that crossed Potter’s face, Severus knew what his answer should be. “I don’t think—”

“What a wonderful idea!” interrupted Lucius, waving the butter knife once more. “I’m sure Severus would love to join us, wouldn’t you, Severus?”

Severus sighed. As distasteful as the idea seemed, Potter _was_ Hermione’s friend, and from the way he and Draco were eyeing each other, it seemed if he spent any time around Draco, Potter would probably be there, too. “It would be my pleasure,” he lied. 

“Excellent,” said Lucius. “I’ll let Narcissa know we’ll have one more for dinner.”

“Two more if she didn’t already know about Harry,” said Draco.

“Of course,” muttered Lucius, peering into his flask. “We can’t forget him.” 

Dinner was subdued, polite. Narcissa kept trying to draw Potter out, but he answered in monosyllables whilst glaring at Severus. Likewise, Draco tried asking Severus about Hogwarts, but he, too, was quiet, unless it was to exchange snide remarks with Lucius. 

Finally, Narcissa put her fork down and cleared her throat. “I’m not sure why things are so tense this evening, gentlemen, but it stops _right now_.” 

Everyone stared at her. 

“Mr Potter.” She sighed. “I’m sorry. _Harry_.”

Potter’s eyes went big. “Yes, Mrs Malfoy?” 

Narcissa smiled. “It’s clear to me Draco intends for you to become a part of the family. If that is the case, you need to understand Severus is also part of our family. Think of him as…Draco’s uncle.” 

Eyes darting to Severus’ face, Potter nodded. “Yes, Mrs Malfoy.” 

Severus smirked. 

“What are you smirking about, Severus?” Narcissa snapped. 

Severus blinked, taken aback. “Narcissa—”

“Don’t _Narcissa_ me! You and Lucius have been sniping at Harry all evening. He deserves as much respect as you, especially since he’s joining the family.” 

Severus exhaled, avoiding looking at Potter. “Yes, Narcissa.” 

“Now, I believe Lucius mentioned something about changes you want to make at Hogwarts. Why don’t you tell us about them?” 

It was only with the utmost control that Severus managed not to gape at her. “I hardly think anyone here’s interested—”

“Nonsense.” Narcissa gestured. “Tell us all about it, Severus.” 

Which was how Severus found himself relating Hermione’s idea (without mentioning who it came from) and the plan to approach the board to get a ruling. “The problem is,” he concluded, “unless we can come up with a plan of how to be able to give the elves these Christmas presents, I believe the board will say no.” 

“What do you think, Lucius?” said Narcissa, spooning her crème brûlée into her mouth. 

“I fear Severus is right,” said Lucius, sipping his wine. “I can, of course, do my best to lobby the other board members, but without a plan—”

Potter cleared his throat and they all turned to look at him. “Why don’t you just give all gifts to another elf to distribute?” he asked. 

“That elf would have to be excluded from receiving a gift themselves, which would hardly be fair,” said Severus. “The act of accepting the clothes would end up freeing whichever elf that did it.” 

Potter shrugged. “Not if you used a non-Hogwarts elf. Or a free elf. I can ask Kreacher to do it if you like. I freed him ages ago, but he likes living at Grimmauld, so I told him he could stay.” Potter smiled. “He’d probably love it, especially since he complains I don’t give him enough to do. And it fits the legend even. Isn’t Father Christmas supposed to be an elf himself?” 

Severus, Narcissa, and Lucius all stared at Potter. Draco smirked.

Potter raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“I think you just stunned them speechless with your brains, love,” murmured Draco. 

“That’s actually a good idea, Potter,” said Severus. “I…thank you.” 

Potter smirked. “Anything for Hermione.” 

Severus frowned. “How did you—?”

Potter snorted. “Oh please. Coming up with a plan to give the house-elves Christmas presents has Hermione stamped all over it.” His eyes narrowed. “I hope you’re not just doing this so you can…” He hesitated. 

“I believe Harry’s asking your intentions towards his best friend, Severus,” Draco intervened smoothly.

Potter shot a grateful look at Draco and nodded. 

Finding himself again the focus of everyone around the table, Severus coughed. “Any…intentions I may have towards Herm—Professor Granger are, of course, honourable, Potter.” 

Potter regarded him for a moment before nodding as if satisfied. “I’ll be in touch about Kreacher.”

“Lovely,” said Narcissa. She smiled. “Perhaps Professor Granger will even grace us with her presence at dinner some evening. Now, since we’ve solved tonight’s problem, who’s for port?”

* * *

“But why won’t you tell me the idea?” said Hermione under her breath as they were ushered in to meet the board. 

Severus smirked. “We shall have to see if they agree with it. If they do not, I didn’t want to get your hopes up.” 

Hermione huffed, but as they were standing directly before the board, there was no time for her to ask more questions. 

“Headmaster Snape,” said Alastor Fawley, the chairman. “To what do we owe this visit? And who is this charming young witch with you?” 

“Hermione Granger, sir. I teach Charms at Hogwarts, and I’m here to make a request of the board.” 

Fawley blinked. “Well, then, you may proceed, of course.” 

“Thank you.” Squaring her shoulders, Hermione seemed to look every board member in the eye as she spoke. “Good day, Chairman Fawley, Vice-Chairman Shafiq, and all you members-at-large. I’m here today to ask for permission to reward some of the hardest working members of our school. The Hogwarts house-elves.” 

Severus stood back and watched her cajole, plead, berate, and finally, flatter them all into her point of view. When she was done, not one board member looked like he knew what had hit him. Not even Lucius, who had been expecting it. 

“…concludes my presentation. Thank you for allowing me to speak.” Exhaling, Hermione stepped back and eyed them all expectantly. 

“That was…most persuasive, Professor,” said Fawley, looking a bit dazed. 

One of the members-at-large, a distant Parkinson, raised his hand. “You’ve not said how you wish to accomplish this feat, Professor. It’s all well and good to have charitable intentions, but unless you have a way for the gifts to be distributed without causing an inadvertent sacking of all Hogwarts’ house-elves, this doesn’t seem feasible.” 

Hermione cleared her throat. “Governor Parkinson—”

Severus placed a hand on her shoulder. “That is why I am here, Governor Parkinson,” he said smoothly. “I have come up with a way to distribute the gifts without an issue.” 

Parkinson raised an eyebrow. “Well, I for one should like to hear it.” 

“As should I,” muttered Hermione, only loud enough for Severus to hear. 

Severus smirked, moving past Hermione. “As you all know, elf law states an elf cannot be given the gift of clothes, unless one intends to free him or her. And, as you are also aware, because of Professor Granger’s thorough presentation, the Hogwarts house-elves expressed a desire for Christmas gifts this year, specifically socks and scarves.”

“Impossible,” grumbled Shafiq. 

“Not at all,” replied Severus. “And really, the answer’s obvious once you think about it. A non-Hogwarts elf needs to give the elves their gifts.”

Behind him, Hermione sucked in a breath. 

“And where do we find one of those?” asked Fawley, eyebrow raised. 

“I’ve taken the liberty of making the arrangements,” said Severus. “Kreacher!” 

Kreacher appeared with a pop before them, a scowl on his face. 

“This, honourable governors, is the free elf who has agreed to assist us with the requested task.” Severus gestured at Kreacher. “Proceed.” 

“Ho, ho, ho,” Kreacher sniffed, and when he snapped his fingers, a sack appeared in his hand. 

“Well,” drawled Lucius, “that answers my concerns. Shall we vote?” 

Severus and Hermione were escorted out while the vote proceeded. The moment they arrived in the hallway, Hermione rounded on Severus, her eyes shining and bosom heaving. “You planned that!” 

Inclining his head, Severus said, “I did.” 

Hermione sputtered. “You…I—” Then, throwing her arms around his neck, she hugged him whispering, “Thank you!” 

His arms went around her and he buried his face in her hair, inhaling. “You are more than welcome, Hermione,” he murmured. 

When she drew back to look into his face, she was smiling. “I feel as though this was _my_ Christmas present.” 

Severus smirked. “Ah. Should I return the socks I purchased for you, then?” 

Hermione giggled for a moment before sobering. “This may be one of the nicest things anyone’s done for me.” 

“It’s not done yet,” Severus warned. “They have yet to vote.” 

Hermione shook her head. “They’ll vote yes,” she said. “After all, even if they vote no, we can still do it now. We can just say Kreacher decided to do it on his own.” 

Severus chuckled softly. “Are you sure you’re not a Slytherin?” 

“I’m beginning to wonder,” whispered Hermione, and leaning up, she pressed her lips against his. 

Severus had just slipped his tongue into her mouth when someone cleared their throat, and they parted. 

Lucius smirked. “You’ll be pleased to know your request has been approved,” he said. “Congratulations.” His smirk deepened. “However shall you celebrate?” 

Severus scowled. “We’ll think of something,” he said, his arm tightening around Hermione. 

Lucius bowed. “I’m sure you shall. Happy Christmas, both of you.”

* * *

Hermione, Severus discovered with experimentation, was passionate, responsive, and she fit perfectly under his arm. And her hair smelled delightful, even after she’d used _his_ shampoo. Something about her made it smell…exotic. And she wore his Slytherin green dressing gown far better than he did.

“Are you paying attention?” she whispered, elbowing him in the ribs. His dressing gown gapped, revealing a delectable view of her cleavage, the sight sending a shaft of desire to his core. 

Severus tightened his arm around her. “Of course.” 

“Funny, you looked as though you were daydreaming.” 

“Even if I was, about whom do you imagine I was thinking?” he asked, eyebrow raised. 

Blushing adorably (and Severus, happily, now knew exactly how far that blush extended), Hermione rolled her eyes. “You have to watch this,” she hissed. “It’s the culmination of all our hard work!” 

Severus smirked. “Perhaps not _all_ our hard work,” he murmured. “I’d say last night was the culmination. Several culminations, in fact.” 

A giggle escaped before she clamped her mouth shut. “Severus!”

“Shh!” Severus hushed her. “It’s almost time.” 

The Hogwarts house-elves were all gathered in his office, and the moment the last one arrived they went silent. 

Severus cleared his throat. “Thank you all for meeting me here. A month ago you came to me with a request, a request that you be allowed Christmas gifts from the staff. You have given me a month, and now it’s time for your answer.” 

Frieda, in the front of the gathered elves, was watching him carefully, her ears flapping back and forth.

Severus smiled. “The answer is yes.” He snapped his fingers, and Kreacher appeared, holding a sack. Instead of the plain one he’d had at the governor’s meeting, however, his new sack, sewn by Hermione, was bright red, with white fur trim. And he wore a matching hat with a bell on the end. Hermione had tried to get him to wear a tiny Santa suit, too, but Kreacher had drawn the line there.

Still, he looked the part. “Ho. Ho. Ho,” he growled, reaching into his sack to begin handing out wrapped, tagged gifts. He presented the first one to Frieda, who accepted it hesitantly, a look of shock on her face.

Hermione seemed to be holding her breath as Frieda opened her present and socks fell out. Frieda’s eyes went wide. “Socksies!” she cried, holding them up. “I has socksies!”

After that it was pandemonium. The elves swarmed Kreacher, who could barely keep up. Although, after the first few, he seemed to be enjoying himself, an occasional smile crossing his face. 

Hermione leaned her head on Severus’ shoulder. 

“Headmaster, sir?” 

Severus looked down. “Yes?” 

Frieda, her large eyes shimmering with tears, smiled. “We thanks you, Headmaster, sir. We thanks you for happy Christmases.” 

Severus swallowed past the lump in his throat. “The gifts are from all the staff members. They could not be here because it’s Christmas Day and they’re spending it with their families, but they all wish you a happy Christmas. And honestly, it was all Professor Granger’s doing.” 

“Thank you, Professor Granger, mistress,” said Frieda.

“Actually,” said Hermione, “it was mostly the Headmaster. Happy Christmas.” 

“So,” said Severus as the gift giving wound down and the elves continued exclaiming over their scarves and socks and gloves, “I believe our work here is done.” 

“I do believe you’re right, Headmaster, sir.” Hermione’s eyes danced with mischief and something else, something warmer. “Oh, by the way, do you like _your_ socks?” 

Severus wriggled his toes. “They’re quite red,” he murmured. “But they’ll do.” 

“Next year maybe I’ll make you a yellow pair,” Hermione said as they navigated their way through the elves to return to quarters. “You know, for your Hufflepuff side.”

“Careful, or I’ll show you my Hufflepuff side in bed,” he growled. 

Hermione laughed. “Actually, I’m happy to see _any_ side of you in bed,” she said. 

Severus smirked. “In that case,” he said, “let’s get to it.” And hauling her close, he Apparated them to his bed. “Happy Christmas, Professor,” he murmured as he kissed her and removed his dressing gown to reveal her warm, naked body beneath. 

Eyes glowing, she smiled, wrapping her arms and legs around him. “It certainly is, Headmaster.”

* * *


End file.
